FOR NEW READERS…

During a battle between Spitfire (Carrie Conway) and the British Hellfire Club, Spitfire’s friend Gary McGuiness was badly injured and left in a coma. With little hope of him recovering, and blaming herself for his condition, Carrie and her friends searched for super-humans with healing powers. Failing to find anyone who would help them, Spitfire finally turned to an old enemy, Brainstorm – who thanks to her was incarcerated in the Tyburn Maximum Security Prison. Carrie managed to persuade the criminal to help, but their meeting was interrupted by the demonic Maaxa, who knocked Carrie unconscious and took Brainstorm.

In the darkness, in the void between conscious and unconscious thought, Carry Conway screamed in pain and terror. Her chest and stomach were still burning – white hot in the aftermath of a battle with the most powerful foe she had ever faced.

“If you see me again, little girl, run away.” The Demoness had said. “Because next time we meet, I will kill you.” It was no idle threat. The pain was incalculable – unbearable – it overwhelmed all other senses and sensations.

Carrie.

The voice in her head – she had heard it before, but it was closer now – more immediate – more insistent. Somehow it pushed everything else into the background – the pain was still there but dulled somehow. Spitfire stopped screaming and gasped for air.

Carrie. The voice repeated. Come back. You have to be strong. The ordeal that I spoke of is upon you. You must fight. People need you.

“You expect me to fight Her?” Carrie said, her eyes widening with fear. “She beat me like I was nothing! Oh God! It hurts!”

I can help you. The barriers between us are almost gone.

“What do you mean?” Carrie said. “Yes – I… I can see you! Almost! You’re there! Like a shadow… or an echo…” She could just make out a shape – a slender figure not much taller than she was – a cloaked man with his face hidden beneath the shadows of a hood. As she spoke he pulled the hood lower. “Who are you?” Carrie whispered.

No. Not yet. The mysterious figure said softly. Not yet. I think it’s time for you to wake.

Her eyes opened. Spitfire was lying on her back on a large and comfortable bed in a brightly lit room – not at all what she had expected considering the oppressive gloom of the Tyburn Prison complex where she had been knocked unconscious. Above her, through a large hexagonal window in the ceiling, a cloudless ice-blue sky was visible. Carrie blinked in the glare. There was something strangely familiar about this place… where was she?

She tried to sit up, but fell back crying out in pain.

“Lie still. Your injuries are severe.”

“Pilgrim?” Carrie said, recognising the voice. “Is that you?”

In reply, a long, angular face moved into her line of sight. “Hello Carrie.” Pilgrim said. “How do you feel?”

“That’s a bloody stupid question.” Carrie said, sitting up, slowly and with more care this time to avoid aggravating her wounds. Her entire torso was wrapped in bandages, as was the forearm she had used to try and shield herself from Maaxa’s energy blast. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and looked around the room. “Back in the Hidden City I see.” She said. “Your doing I take it?”

Pilgrim nodded. “I tried to reach you before Maaxa got to the prison. Unfortunately I got there too late.”

“Yeah. Unfortunate.” Carrie said, wincing slightly. “So who is this Maaxa anyway? Another old enemy of the Adrastraeans that you forgot to tell me about?”

“That’s hardly fair.” The Elder – last surviving member of the Knights of Adrastraea stood in the doorway, the light glittering on his golden armour. There was an element of reproach in his voice, but his expression showed only concern. “If you had stayed with us as you promised, there would have been time for us to talk on many things.”

“Yes, well…” Carrie said awkwardly. That was a low blow. “Things happened.”

“Things always do.” The Elder said, then smiled warmly, choosing not to pursue the subject. “I am glad to see you awake. We were worried – whatever hit you seemed to overload your natural healing powers. But within a few days you should be back to your old self.” The old man walked gracefully into the room and sat beside her on the bed. “In answer to your earlier question, Maaxa has no connection to us.”

“But you do know something about her.” Carrie persisted.

“Yes.” The Elder said. “Do you remember when you fought the creature Ghast in Canada?” Carrie nodded. She had battled the undead assassin – stalling for time to prevent him killing a friend, while Pilgrim had managed to get the contract lifted.

“Ghast was in the service of the Red Library.” Pilgrim took up the story. “While I was there the Scholar who runs the Library told me something – something that had scared him so much that as soon as I had left he removed the Red Library from this plane of existence altogether. When I returned to the Hidden City I immediately told the Elder everything.”

“Which was?” Carrie prompted.

“The Scholar warned me that something was coming – a threat from another dimension – summoned by beings of vast power who plan to recreate their own Hell-plane here on Earth.”

“And Maaxa is one of them?”

“One of their leaders.” The Elder said. “Since Pilgrim alerted me to the danger I found out all I could. Not that there was all that much to find. They call themselves the Horde, for all the Legions of the Abyss are at their command. Their agents have been active on Earth for some months it seems, preparing for something.”

“Why did they want Brainstorm?” Carrie asked.

“We don’t know for certain. But we do know that they are gathering beings of mystic or psychic power. Your convict was just the latest in a long line.” The Elder activated a small device built into his cybernetic arm, and a holographic image appeared – Brainstorm’s face – hovering a little above his palm. After a few seconds the convicts features vanished, to be replaced by another face, and then another, and another.

“These are the people we think have already been taken by the Horde.” Pilgrim said, as the parade of faces continued. An albino woman with black hair, a girl who looked like the lead singer of Danse Macabre, a man with a neatly trimmed beard (Could that be Lynn’s friend V.R, she wondered?), more and more faces, until finally the hologram vanished. “There are probably others.” Pilgrim said, grimly.

Suddenly – a hideous, shrill wailing noise lanced through them. Carrie fell to her knees and pressed her hands over her ears but it made no difference – and she realised that it wasn’t really a sound at all. Rather, like the voice of her mysterious ‘friend’ it screamed directly into their minds, a primal force – unstoppable – unbearable. Then finally, its energy spent, the scream dwindled, died. The silence that followed seemed more profound – more acute.

“What was that?” Pilgrim demanded finally. He had drawn his sword, expecting an attack, but nothing came. Shaking his head to clear it the tall man raced to the balcony and looked over the edge. Beneath him, in the plaza below, a few scattered groups of people could be made out, looking fearfully about them – obviously they had been effected too. Pilgrim turned back into the room. “What was that?” he repeated to the Elder.

“A scream – a psychic scream.” The old man muttered, visibly shaken. “Something terrible has happened.”

* * *

In Spitfire’s London apartment in the Dalby Tower, Kate Bixby and Nick Smith half lifted half dragged the unconscious form of Matthew Buckingham to the sofa. The psychic scream had struck them at the same instant as, across the world, it had swept over the Hidden City, but with his own innate telepathy Buckingham had been hit harder than they. Bob Carpenter ran in from the kitchen with a cloth soaked in cold water.

“What on Earth was that?” Carpenter said, handing the cloth to Kate, who lay it gently across the unconscious man’s forehead. Buckingham moaned slightly but didn’t wake up.

“I don’t think it came from Earth.” Nick said. “Look!”

Outside their window, the sky had taken on a dull, blood red hue. The clouds seethed and boiled, and the air felt hot – stifling – as if the biggest thunderstorm in history was about to be unleashed.

Then a crack appeared – a brilliantly bright jagged line, like a lightning strike – but rather than vanishing like lightning it remained, and grew, as further lines spider-webbed out from it, until the air above them looked like a sheet of glass slowly cracking, yielding under tremendous pressure from the other side. Finally – inevitably – it gave in.

The wind smashed into the tower with the force of a hurricane, shattering every window and showering them with fragments of glass. Carpenter lost his footing and was swept back against the far wall by the force of the gale. Kate and Nick clung to each other as the void widened and thousands of figures began to drop down on the city – twisted humanoid forms, slowing their descent with leathery bat-like wings. The demons had invaded London.

* * *

“It’s happening all across the world.”

The Elder, Pilgrim and Spitfire had quickly left the bed chamber and ascended the Hidden City’s central tower, finally arriving at a large room filled with computer screens and other technologies, the purpose of which Carrie could only guess. In the centre of the room a holographic image generator projected a three-dimensional view of the Earth, spinning on its axis. Across the surface of the sphere, livid red scars marked each breach between this world and theirs – each one a beachhead in the demonic invasion of Earth. As they watched, more and more scarlet wounds appeared on the planet.

There were other people in the Viewing Room – fellow heirs to the Adrastraean legacy, Carrie assumed. Some had been there when they arrived, monitoring the screens, but most filed in, pale faced and scared. A woman in a black and grey costume appeared at the Elder’s shoulder.

“We tracked the psychic disturbance back to its epicentre.” She said, her even tone a masterpiece of self control, under the circumstances.

“Well done Estella.” the Elder said. “Where?”

“Genosha.” She answered. “That was where the first of the rifts opened. After that more and more – over the big cities and world capitals mostly.”

“I’ve seen enough.” The Elder said, hoarsely. “Raise the Barrier.”

“No!” Pilgrim said. “We should do something!”

“I understand how you feel but this is not our fight.” The Elder said, shaking his head sadly.

“What’s going on?” Carrie asked Estella. “What’s this Barrier?”

“A defensive shield – the ultimate protection of the Hidden City.” Estella whispered. “Even these creatures won’t be able to get through. We’ll be completely safe.”

Carrie’s attention returned to the argument between the Elder and Pilgrim.

“What good would we be in the true battle – the battle against En Sabah Nur – if we expend our scant resources now?” The Elder was saying. “Let others fight this battle Pilgrim. Trust me. We should not get involved.”

“And leave the rest to their fate?” Pilgrim turned away angrily.

A hushed silence had now fallen on the room. “What’s going on?” Carrie asked the other woman.

“The technologies that power the Barrier are complex – arcane. If the shield is ever raised it will take months before it can be lowered again.” Estella smiled as Carrie realised the implications of what she had said. “In other words, once we’re behind the shield there is no getting out until the crisis is over. It’s time for you to make your choice Spitfire” Estella said, her tone slightly mocking as she used Carrie’s code-name. “Which side of the Barrier will you be on? Are you one of us or not? In or out?”

* * *

“Over here!” Bobbi O’Neill snapped. “Now, get a low angle so that you can see the sky behind me.”

“Bobbi – this is crazy!” Noel Graham said, setting down his camera. “We have to get out of here!” He moved to the edge of the roof on which they stood and pointed. “They’ll be here any minute now! We have to go before they cut us off!”

“The biggest news story since… well, Ever, and you want to run away?” The woman said incredulously.

“Let me think about it for a moment… YES!” Graham shouted. “You want the end of the world on film so badly? Fine – you do it!” Setting the camera down, he stepped onto the fire escape and vanished from sight.

“Come back here you coward!” Bobbi O’Neill shouted after him. Then, picking up the camera, she set it to hover in front of her and re-applied her trademark fuchsia lipstick.

“This is Bobbi O’Neill reporting from the roof of the Television Centre.” She began, as the flashing orange icon on the camera told her that she was now transmitting. “I don’t know whether anyone is picking up this broadcast, or whether anyone can hear what I’m saying.” She began – simultaneously thinking up her acceptance speech for the awards this would win her. “I only hope that the information which I send now will be of some use, and help to fight off this invasion of…” she searched for the right word and gave up “of whatever these things are. The strange creatures have continued to stream out of the sky for the last hour, gathering in Hyde Park. About half an hour ago they began to move, heading into central London, attacking anyone in their path and burning buildings. There have been many casualties. The creatures have made no attempt to communicate, no attempt to tell us what they want. I spoke to several people fleeing the scene who said that the demons were led by a tall woman in golden armour, carrying a battle axe, but these reports have yet to be corroborated.”

Behind her the sounds of gunfire could be made out. “The army are being pushed back.” O’Neill continued. “The police are evacuating all of central London. A number of traffic accidents have brought the roads to a standstill, and the streets are full of abandoned cars as people flee on foot.” She took the camera and moved it to show the street scene she had been describing. “Everywhere people are running away from central Lon-” her voice trailed off as she saw a small group of people running in the opposite direction – back towards the chaos only a few blocks ahead. “Where do they think they’re going?” she murmured.

* * *

Kate and Nick, supporting the semi-conscious Buckingham between them stumbled towards the sounds of the battle, unaware that they were being observed by the reporter on the rooftop above them. They had considered leaving the detective behind, but in his current state they thought it better not to leave him on his own. Behind them, sweating profusely from the effort of carrying a heavy case, Bob Carpenter followed.

“Hurry!” Nick urged. “We’re almost there!” he added, reassuringly to Kate, who managed an exhausted smile. “I just hope we get there before the fighting does.”

They rounded a last corner and saw the hospital gates before them. An ambulance skidded out, siren blaring, and raced off away from the centre. In the courtyard, a team of hospital orderlies were carrying people on stretchers to a waiting heli-jet.

“They’re evacuating.” Nick said.

Kate ran over to a nervous looking man in a white lab coat. “Are all the patients being taken away?” she asked. “Gary McGuiness! Is he still inside?”

“This is the last!” The Doctor shouted over her head, as a badly burned soldier was carried past them on a stretcher and stowed away in the overcrowded rear compartment of the jet. The Doctor scrambled in behind him, then beat his fist against the side of the craft. “That’s it! Take her up!”

Kate backed away as the jet’s powerful rotors lifted it out of the hospital grounds, the wind sending up clouds of dust and rubbish. As soon as it was clear of the buildings, the craft shifted to jet propulsion and disappeared, heading west, away from the city.

“The last jet – does that mean Gary’s safe?” Kate said, rejoining the others.

“Look!” Bob Carpenter pointed towards the hospital. “There are still people inside!”

They raced up the steps, and through the corridors that had become so familiar to them since their friend had been injured. Nick, arriving first, shoved open the wooden double doors that led to the Intensive Care Unit.

“Oh My God.” Kate said. Half of the beds in the ward were still occupied – the patients who were too ill to move. A single doctor who had volunteered to stay behind, looked up with an anxious expression at the sound of the doors – then, seeing that the new arrivals were human, he resumed his work without a word.

“Gary?” Nick sprinted along the aisle, skidding to a halt on the polished floor. Gary was lying where they had left him, still unconscious, still wired grotesquely into machines that regulated his breathing until he was strong enough to do it for himself. He had been left behind.

But he wasn’t quite alone. Sitting on a chair beside him, surrounded by a pile of battered books musty with age, was a black haired girl Nick recognised immediately.

“Elise!” he managed. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello Nick.” The amateur sorceress said, slightly shocked by his sudden arrival. “After what you said yesterday I thought I’d try to help your friend if I could.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nick said, smiling broadly.

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up.” Elise said, biting her lip. “Just in case it didn’t work. And it didn’t. He’s too far gone for me to reach. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for – thanks for trying. It means a lot.” He said, as the others arrived. “Elise Keele, I’d like you to meet Kate, Bob, and the man throwing up in the corridor is Buckingham.”

“The demons are almost here!” Carpenter said, from the window. “The hospital looks deserted except for us.”

“You should go.” The doctor said, finally acknowledging their presence.

“We won’t leave him.” Kate said, turning back to Nick. “What do we do?”

“We barricade the doors. Carrie will turn up – you’ll see – we don’t have to wait long. And besides, they may not even bother coming in here.” Nick said, failing to sound at all confident.

“And if they do?”

“Do?” Buckingham said, drawing his revolver from his pocket. The Detective looked deathly pale, and was leaning against the wall for support, but his voice was steady. “This is my town.” He said. “Let’s kill the bastards.”

* * *

Bobbi O’Neill had abandoned her roof-top vantage point. The demons had changed direction slightly, their rampage taking them away from her, past the hospital and towards the river, so she descended to the streets to get a better look at what was happening, the floating camera unit hovering obediently at her shoulder. The road she now crossed had been a battleground just a few moments ago, littered with the bodies of dead soldiers and policemen, burned out cars and scattered piles of masonry. Cautiously, she began to pick her way through the debris, moving awkwardly in high heels and skirt-suit. Then she stopped, despite the potential danger, as something a little further along the road caught her attention.

Among the bodies she could see one of the creatures, lying on its side. As she got closer she could see that its wings were riddled with bullet holes, and that blood was drooling from its jaws.

“So you can be killed.” O’Neill said, positioning herself beside the creature for an award-winning close up. “We do have a chance, after all.”

Suddenly the creature moved. Bobbi O’Neill let out a terrified shriek, overbalanced and fell to the floor, eyes tightly shut in anticipation of her imminent demise.

“Will you shut up and help me?” A voice. A voice with a London accent. Bobbi opened her eyes. She had no idea what these demonic creatures were, but she was reasonably certain they weren’t locals. The demon was still moving, but she now perceived that it was definitely dead, and that something trapped beneath its body was trying to get free. Hesitantly, she crawled closer.

“Get this thing off of me!” The voice demanded with irritation. Unwilling to touch the creature, O’Neill finally found a discarded rifle and used it to lever the demon over onto its back. Beneath it, a blonde man in his mid-forties was lying, his arm twisted behind him at an awkward angle.

“You!” They both said at once.

“Detective Inspector Haller! What a surprise!” the reporter said, recovering from the shock first. She helped him to his feet. “You realise that now you owe me an exclusive interview for saving your life?”

Haller tensed suddenly. “I think your going to have to work a bit harder for the interview.” He said, his voice cracking. Bobbi turned, and screamed.

Behind them, at the end of the road, the front rank of the demon army was advancing towards them. Huge creatures, with armour and bladed weapons made up the centre of the line, clearly some sort of elite troop. One carried a huge black standard, and beneath it, at the very front of the army, was a tall woman with pallid skin and carrying a vicious looking double bladed battle axe. Her eyes glittered red as she saw them.

“You know my law.” Maaxa said, pointing to the two terrified humans with her axe. The demons lunged forwards, beating their wings and gnashing their serrated jaws together, chanting: “Leave none alive!”

Suddenly a red and black shape flashed out of nowhere, striking the foremost demon who fell back at Maaxa’s feet, its teeth scattering across the pavement. Haller and O’Neill were plucked from the path of the attacking demons and were gently set down on the other side of the street.

“Run.” Carrie said. “Leave this to me.”

“Well, well.” Maaxa’s eyes cast a baleful red glow ahead of her. “Spitfire. Do you remember what I told you when last we met?”

“Talk is cheap.” Carrie said, drifting forwards to land on the roof of an abandoned car. Maaxa’s demons were slowly creeping forwards, forming a circle around the two women.

The demoness laughed. “Are you so eager to die?”

She jumped forwards, covering the distance between them impossibly quickly. The demons broke into a raucous cheer, then took up the chant: Leave none alive! Leave none alive! Maaxa brought her axe down hard, cleaving the shattered vehicle in two. Spitfire, barely moving in time, evaded the blow and flying over Maaxa’s head, landed behind her. As Maaxa turned, Carrie managed to land a punch to the jaw, which Maaxa took as if it had been a slap. From their previous encounter Carrie knew that if Maaxa managed to hit her even once, the battle could be over, so rather than pressing her advantage she flew back, as far from Maaxa as she dared, without getting too close to the circle of demons.

Growling, Maaxa advanced, then swept her axe across her body in a savage stroke, aiming to decapitate her enemy. At the last possible moment Carrie threw herself down, evading the blow so narrowly that the axe sliced off some of her hair. As soon as she hit the ground besides Maaxa’s feet, Spitfire threw her arms wide and released her stored energy in a devastating power blast. The ground beneath them liquefied instantly, and the nearest of Maaxa’s demonic bodyguard was swallowed up in the inferno, dying before it had even had a chance to scream. The rest of the demon horde took to the air, their broad bat-like wings carrying them to safer vantage points, clinging to window ledges and lamp posts.

Carrie forced herself up onto her hands and knees, exhausted by the effort. Had she done enough? Had she beaten Maaxa? As the smoke cleared she saw how futile her effort had been. Maaxa still stood, her amour scorched but still whole. Carrie’s vision blurred and she got to her feet. She had pushed herself to the very limits of her power – but the battle – and her previous injuries – was proving too much. She shook her head to clear it. There was one last throw of the dice to make.

Maaxa’s axe. The force of the explosion had at least been enough to cause her to drop the weapon. It lay imbedded in the ground, haft upwards, about half way between the two combatants. Maaxa saw the idea form in Carrie’s eyes and lunged for the weapon, just as Carrie flew forwards, arms outstretched, reaching…

Carrie’s fingers touched the shaft of the weapon a merest fraction of a second before Maaxa. As soon as contact was made, a blinding white light erupted around them. The demon woman fell away, as Spitfire’s fingers closed around the axe and she finally understood the truth.

The woman wasn’t Maaxa at all.

Carrie held Maaxa now – in her hands. The weapon was alive – an ancient demon that demanded battle, a creature that needed to drink the blood of its enemies to slake its vampiric thirst. And it had killed so many since its forging, and with each new death it had grown powerful. Carrie felt its power surge through her arm as she raised the axe Maaxa above her head and laughed. The axe made her strong! No-one would ever defeat her as long as she held the axe. Carrie’s eyes glittered red.

* * *

In the hospital, behind a barricaded door, the sound of scrabbling feet could be heard, talons scratching across the tiles of the corridor beyond, wings brushing against the walls. Elise Keele hastily scrawled a geometric pattern across the door in blue chalk.

“It’s a spell of warding.” She explained, stepping back. “But it’s pretty basic stuff – I don’t know if it’ll hold them long.”

The door shuddered violently as it was struck. The defenders fell back involuntarily, as something howled in frustration on the other side, angry that the fragile door had proved unexpectedly strong. Another impact shook the door, then another, and another – and finally one of the wooden panels splintered.

“This is it!” Buckingham said, firing two shots at the clawed hand that emerged through the hole. Something screamed hideously and the hand was snatched back. Then another savage impact stuck the door and the barricade toppled. Shouting defiantly, Nick and Kate snatched up their improvised weapons and ran forwards.

“Carrie – where are you?” Kate whispered. Then the door exploded inwards and the demons swept into the room like a river of shadow.

* * *

The demon woman who had previously carried Maaxa fell to the ground and crawled away as Spitfire advanced. Behind her, the demons drifted down form their lofty vantage points and fell into position behind her, once again chanting Maaxa’s slogan:
“Leave none alive! Leave none alive!”

The demon had backed off as far as she could go. Carrie was disgusted by her weakness. She raised Maaxa above her head and lined up the killing blow. The demon woman closed her eyes.

Fight her Carrie! Don’t give in! Fight!

The voice shocked her from her trance even as she brought the axe down. Consumed by the demon’s bloodlust Carrie wanted to kill so much! But her reason – awakened by the strange voice – fought back. Carrie swung her bodyweight sideways, redirecting the force of the downward stroke and hurling Maaxa away from her. The weapon shrieked in frustration as Carrie sank, sobbing to the floor, her eyes returning to their normal colour.

“Mine!” The demon woman scrambled across the street and snatched up the weapon again. Triumphantly she raised the axe and laughed. “You almost won, Spitfire! But no-one will ever take Maaxa from me!”

She pointed the axe and a bright blue beam spat out, catching Spitfire full in the face and setting her hair on fire. Carrie screamed in agony and dropped writhing to the floor. The demon’s shadow fell across her.

“But… I spared you!” Carrie managed to say. “I spared your life!”

“That’s why you lost.”

The axe fell.

“Tremble mortals of Britain!” Maaxa roared, through her demon bearer. “Your champion has fallen! Spitfire is dead!”

TO BE CONTINUED?